Chapter 188 Smith's Departure

At nine o'clock in the morning, Smith appeared punctually at the entrance of the tokamak-3 control room.

He had changed into a navy blue casual suit today, without a tie, carrying a briefcase in his hand.

He was followed by two assistants, both of whom were accompanying personnel from the International Science and Technology Alliance.

Lin Mo walked up to him and extended a hand: "Professor Smith, welcome."

Smith shook his hand, his grip slightly firmer than yesterday: "Dr. Lin, thank you for your invitation."

The two men looked at each other for two seconds, then released their hands at the same time.

"Please." Lin Mo turned sideways to lead the way.

The tour lasted for a full three hours.

Smith did not miss a single detail—from the data streams of the central control system to the coolant piping of the Divertor; from the process flow of the Tritium Cycle system to the sample slices of the First Wall Material.

The questions he asked became increasingly tricky; some were so difficult that even Chen Xueming almost could not answer them.

But Lin Mo answered them one by one, unhurried and steady, with data at his fingertips.

At twelve o'clock noon, the group returned to the conference room.

A simple boxed lunch was placed on the table; Smith glanced at it but did not pick up his chopsticks.

"Dr. Lin," he began, his voice slightly hoarse, "may I ask you a personal question?"

Lin Mo nodded.

Smith stared at him, his gaze complex: "These data, these designs, these processes—were they really created in these three years?"

"Yes."

"Without the accumulation of predecessors? Without foreign technology?"

"Yes," Lin Mo replied candidly, "we stand on the shoulders of giants."

"The Soviet tokamak concept, the experience of America's TFTR, the data from Europe's JET, Japan's JT-60—we have studied all of these."

Smith did not speak.

"However," Lin Mo continued, "from these foundations to today's achievements, we forged our own path."

"The precision of the Divertor, the material formula of the First Wall, the efficiency of the Tritium Cycle—we overcame all of these ourselves."

Smith was silent for a long time.

Then he stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to everyone.

"Dr. Lin," his voice came from his back, "do you know how many years I have been researching Nuclear Fusion?"

"Thirty-seven years," Lin Mo said.

Smith turned around, a hint of surprise on his face: "You investigated me?"

"There was no need for an investigation."

"You entered the Princeton Plasma Physics laboratory in 1988, published your first paper on tokamak stability in 1995, led the TFTR upgrade project in 2003, won the International Nuclear Fusion Energy Prize in 2010, and served as an ITER scientific advisor in 2015—these are all in public records."

Smith was stunned for a moment, then smiled.

It was the first time he had smiled today—not out of courtesy, but with a certain complex sense of relief.

"You are more formidable than I thought, Dr. Lin," he said, "not just in technology, but in your understanding of people."

Lin Mo did not respond.

Smith walked back to the table, sat down, and finally picked up his chopsticks.

"I will eat this boxed lunch," he said, "consider it—a sign of respect for my host."

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the tour ended.

Smith shook hands with Lin Mo to say goodbye at the base entrance.

The accompanying staff had already boarded the vehicle and were waiting; only the two of them stood by the car, the wind of the Gobi Desert blowing the corners of their clothes.

"Dr. Lin," Smith said, "I am leaving the country early tomorrow morning."

Lin Mo was slightly stunned: "So soon? We still have a lot to discuss—"

"No," Smith shook his head, "I have seen what I needed to see, and asked what I needed to ask. If I stay any longer, I fear I might—"

He paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Lin Mo waited.

Smith looked at the tokamak-3 device in the distance, silent for a long time.

The massive structure shimmered in the sunlight, like a silent monument.

"When I joined the field thirty-seven years ago," he began slowly, "my mentor told me that Nuclear Fusion is the future of humanity, but it might take the efforts of two or three generations to achieve."

"I thought at the time, it is fine. I will be the first generation, my students will be the second, and their students will be the third—eventually, one generation will succeed."

He withdrew his gaze and looked at Lin Mo: "I did not expect to see it succeed in my lifetime."

"And I certainly did not expect that the place of success would not be Princeton, nor ITER, but this Gobi Desert."

Lin Mo listened quietly.

Smith extended his hand, and Lin Mo took it.

"Dr. Lin," Smith said, his voice very light, yet articulating every word clearly, "you have proven—that science has no borders."

Lin Mo looked into his eyes.

In those eyes, there was appreciation, loss, reluctance, and also a certain sense of relief.

He was silent for two seconds, then said: "Professor Smith, science has no borders, but scientists have a motherland."

Smith's hand stiffened slightly.

The two looked at each other.

The wind of the Gobi Desert passed between them, kicking up dust.

After a long while, Smith released his hand and nodded slightly.

"You are right," he said, "scientists have a motherland."

He turned around, opened the car door, and sat inside.

The car window rolled down slowly, and Smith took one last look at Lin Mo: "Take care, Dr. Lin."

"I hope that next time we meet, we will not be opponents."

"I hope we will be partners," Lin Mo said.

Smith smiled, but did not answer.

The window rolled up, and the black car slowly drove away, disappearing at the end of the Gobi Desert road.

Lin Mo stood in place, watching the car drive away.

Footsteps came from behind; Li Xiao walked to his side and asked in a low voice: "Senior brother, what did he say at the end?"

"He said, science has no borders."

"And what did you reply?"

Lin Mo turned his head and looked at her: "I said, scientists have a motherland."

Li Xiao was stunned for a moment, then smiled.

"Senior brother, what you said—was so cool."

Lin Mo did not smile, just looked into the distance.

"He is not a bad person," he said, "just someone who dedicated his whole life to science, only to discover that his finish line was merely someone else's starting point."

Li Xiao quieted down and also looked into the distance.

"He will come back to collaborate, right?"

Lin Mo was silent for a moment: "He will. But not now."

"Then when?"

"When he figures it out—science may have no borders, but scientists cannot exist without one."

That night, Lin Mo received an email.

Sender: Smith Edwards

Subject: Thank you

The content was very short:

Dr. Lin:

Thank you for your hospitality today. You showed me what a true scientist should look like.

I still do not agree with all your choices, but I respect your persistence.

If one day science can truly make borders less important, I hope that by then, we can truly become partners.

Take care.

Smith

Lin Mo read it three times, then replied:

Professor Smith:

Thank you for your letter.

The meaning of science is not to eliminate borders, but to make the people within those borders live better.

Different countries, different choices, but the ultimate goal is the same—to let humanity go further.

Looking forward to that day.

Lin Mo

Click send.

He closed the computer and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the night sky over the Gobi Desert was clear and bright, full of stars.

Those stars, without borders, without regard for east or west, shone quietly on this land, and also on the ocean that Smith was flying over.

The next morning, at Capital International Airport.

Before walking into the boarding gate, Smith looked back at the waiting hall.

On the giant display screen, news was scrolling—China's Nuclear Fusion breakthrough, the reactions of various countries, and experts' comments.

He withdrew his gaze and walked into the boarding bridge.

In his seat, he opened the notebook he carried, turned to the latest page, and wrote:

May 2037, China, Gobi Desert.

I witnessed with my own eyes the greatest breakthrough in the history of human energy.

Not in the United States, not in Europe, but here.

That young man said to me: Science has no borders, but scientists have a motherland.

I spent thirty-seven years pursuing the ideal of science without borders, and only today do I realize—what I was pursuing might just be an illusion.

But perhaps, an illusion can also one day become reality.

He closed the notebook and looked out the window.

The plane took off, passed through the clouds, and sunlight spilled into the porthole.

Smith closed his eyes, and the look in Lin Mo's eyes when he last saw him appeared in his mind—calm, firm, and neither humble nor arrogant.

"A formidable youth," he muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, in the Gobi Desert.

Lin Mo stood in front of the tokamak-3 device, watching the workers begin a new round of equipment testing.

Chen Xueming walked over and handed him a cup of coffee: "I heard Smith left?"

"Hmm."

"What did he say?"

Lin Mo took the coffee and took a sip: "He said, he hopes that next time we meet, we will not be opponents."

"And you?"

"I said, I hope we are partners."

Chen Xueming laughed: "What you said was much gentler than what I would have said back in the day."

Lin Mo looked at him: "What was your attitude back then?"

"Back then?" Chen Xueming scratched his head, "Back then I thought you were just lucky, and I was not convinced. Now—"

"Now?"

Chen Xueming looked at the huge device in front of him, his voice lowered: "Now I understand, some people are born to do great things."

"I am not that kind of person, but I can follow someone who does great things and do some small things."

Lin Mo was silent for two seconds, then patted his shoulder.

"You are not following," he said, "you are in this together."

Chen Xueming was stunned for a moment, his eyes reddening again.

"Alright, alright," he turned his head away, "It is early in the morning, do not be so sentimental."

Lin Mo smiled and turned to walk towards the control room.

"Let us go," he said, "there is still a lot to do."

Chen Xueming followed, walked a few steps, and suddenly asked: "Old Lin, how do you think Smith will talk to the International Science and Technology Alliance after he goes back?"

Lin Mo did not stop: "It does not matter how he says it. What matters is—whether they believe it."

"Then will they believe it?"

"Whether they believe it or not is not important," Lin Mo pushed open the control room door, "What is important is that what we have achieved, they cannot."

The door closed behind him.

Inside the control room, Li Xiao was debugging a new simulation system, Zhao Gang was assigning security tasks over the walkie-talkie, and other team members were busy with their own work.

Outside the window, the sun over the Gobi Desert rose higher and higher, illuminating the entire base brightly.